Sweet Sixteen
by Verdeben
Summary: It’s Dumbledore’s birthday, and the celebration is going great…until they discover what the punch was spiked with. The Hogwart’s staff has been exposed to a rare potion. There is no known cure, and it has some…interesting side effects.
1. Pretty Pink Bubbles

Rating: R   
Pairing: Severus/Ron and various others   
Description: It's Dumbledore's birthday, and the celebration is going great...until they discover what the punch was spiked with. The Hogwart's staff has been exposed to a rare potion. There is no known cure, and it has some...interesting side effects.   
Author's Notes: I've never written a fanfic with this main pairing before. Also, this whole cross-generation, middle-aged-guy-meets-teenager love affair thing is VERY new to me. Well, not _that_ new, but that's a different story. ; ) So bear with me please, people, and let's have some fun with this!   
Author's Notes: 'Ello all! This is may very first fanfiction--at least that I have submitted--so I am very nervous to see if anyone actually reads it. I do hope you all like it! I know I do! Teehee. Anyway, on with the show...

Sweet Sixteen--Chapter 1: Pretty Pink Bubbles

Crash. Bang. Shatter. Then a muttered "shit!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Severus gritted his teeth. "Don't worry about it, Mister Weasley."

"Oh, all right," George's voice regained it's earlier cheeriness. "Anyway, as I was saying, Fred and I just felt like popping over to say hello to our former teachers, is all. So—ouu! What's this?"

"Lemme see!" Fred dashed to George's side to help him examine the blue- and yellow-spotted plant on the shelf at the back of Severus' classroom.

_Are these kids high or something_? Severus silently asked himself. He waved his wand at the mess on the floor, immediately clearing away the broken glass and slimy, green goo. Another well-concocted potion gone to waste. _Whatever they've been smoking, I think I'd like to try it. I could use a bit more joy in my life_...

"Hey! Professor!"

Severus made an exasperated noise and returned his attention to the two boys. "What now?"

"What d'ya call this?" Fred held up a flask filled with a creamy, pink liquid—much like Pepto Bismol.

_Damnit. _It seemed that they had found their way into what was supposed to be his hidden cabinet—not to mention it was magically bolted with all the locking spells and charms known to man the last time he checked. Severus had to hand it to the Weasley twins; they sure knew all the tricks of the trade.

He snorted. "Forget it, boys. I know you two far too well. That is definitely not a potion you'd like to drink." He snatched the bottle out of Fred's hands.

They made twin faces and twin comments. "Fuck."

"Language, boys, language."

"What does it do anyway? Can't be that bad," George grumbled.

"Nothing you should concern yourself with. All I'll tell you is that it's rare, and has some...odd side effects, to say the least. Thankfully, it's not dangerous." He turned to place the bottle back in his cabinet when he heard shouts of "Fight! Fight!" from the corridor.

"Ah, Jesus. Excuse me." Severus passed by his desk on his way out the door and left the bottle in his wake.

As soon as Severus was out of sight, Fred smirked at George and nodded his head towards the potion. George matched his smirk and crept over to the desk, rubbing his hands together in an over-dramatically-evil fashion. The bottle was in his clutches and hidden safely inside his coat just in time for Severus to return, holding the collars of two Ravenclaw fourth-years.

Severus shoved both boys into adjoining seats, then stood before them with his arms crossed over his chest. "By now, I suspect you two know the routine by heart. No talking, no standing, and keep your hands to yourselves. You have one hour. Also, I'll be taking twenty points each from Ravenclaw. Now," he turned to Fred and George, "where were—

"Man, I've got the munchies!" Fred interrupted, speaking all in a rush. "Isn't it about time for dinner? I'm sure it is. Let's go eat!"

Yup, they're definitely high on something, Severus decided as he watched them bolt from the room. He adjourned to his desk and the pile of essays that required grading. Not once did he think of the missing potion for the remainder of the night. And when he finally did, it was too late. 

Eight. That's what Severus' clock told him when he entered his classroom after supper. He had half an hour. Then he would have to join the rest of Hogwarts' staff in Dumbledore's office for what he was informed would be an all-night party. "What is Albus _thinking_?!" Severus cried, storming over the threshold to a door off in the upper right-hand corner. A muttered password, and the door swung open. "I mean, I know it's his birthday, but from previous experience, there's always a LOT of alcohol at his parties! And we have classes tomorrow! How the fuck are we supposed to teach with massive hangovers?!" He tore off his work robes and tossed them on the bed along with his wand. Random phrases concerning Dumbledore's responsibility level emitted from his mouth as Severus searched through his wardrobe, finally discovering the perfect clothes for the occasion.

He exited his private quarters in a huff, remembering, as always, to slam the door behind him. The corridors were empty except for a collection of stragglers. Severus reminded each of them about their curfew and sent the more intimate ones on their way.

His footsteps echoed off the walls as he ventured deeper into the castle. All was silent now. Until a large, wooden door swung open, smacking him square in the face.

"Ow! Goddamnit!" Severus held his throbbing nose until the colored spots disappeared from his eyes, then he pressed on to find out who the useless dolt (or dolts) was. "What the hell—

"I could walk you." The pair—yes, it was obvious to Severus now that there were two people in the doorway of the seemingly abandoned classroom—appeared oblivious to Severus' shout. Maybe they were too engrossed in their own conversation. Who knows? Anyway, the point was, Severus soon found himself doing something he hadn't done in the longest time—eavesdropping. He ducked behind the open door, holding his breath and hoping the students wouldn't notice him. He checked around the door once, but couldn't make out who they were in the dark. All he knew was that one of them was male due to the voice he had heard only seconds ago.

"No, I don't think we should go back together. If someone saw us, who knows what they'd come up with." Make that two males...Hold on just a tick! _Two_ boys? In an abandoned classroom? In the middle of the night? Interesting.

Sigh. "You're right. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah. Bye." There was a brief pause where Severus peeked around the door again to see the shadowy outline of the two figures, only much closer together now. Indeed, as he had thought, they were sharing a goodnight kiss. Pretty long one, in fact. But, eventually, the boys managed to pry themselves away from each other. One wandered off down the hall in what seemed to be an alternate direction to the Slytherin dormitories while the other lingered. With a romantic sigh, the boy closed the classroom door to reveal Severus, who hadn't had time to escape.

"P-professor?" the boy exclaimed. Now that Severus actually heard his voice without the door to muffle it somewhat, he realized who it was before he even saw him. Ronald Weasley.

Severus spun around, a smug smile spread over his lips. "Mister Weasley, fancy meeting you here," he said casually.

"Professor, I can explain—

"I never pictured you as a queer," Severus continued, his tone turning cocky.

"Oh. That." Ron's cheeks became rosy to match his hair.

"And with a Slytherin, no doubt. My, my, you _are_ a man of many mysteries."

"H-how did you know he was a Slytherin?" Ron stuttered, still in a slight state of shock.

"I know every hallway leading to the Slytherin common room, and I happen to know that the other boy was heading down one of those particular hallways. Though, sadly, I couldn't tell who they were. So, who was it, Mister Weasley? I tend to enjoy keeping a mental record on the habits of the students in my house."

Ron's expression turned sour. "None of your business."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that."

Ron made a frustrated noise, and, rolling his eyes, looked at his feet. He mumbled a name that was just loud enough for Severus to hear it.

"Many thanks. Goodnight." Severus trotted down the hall, wondering why a strapping, noble young man like Draco Malfoy would fool around with a Weasley.

"Severus, you're late!"

Now how was that possible? His clock had read about eight when he had left, and it couldn't have taken him more than ten minutes or so to get to Dumbledore's office. Oh well. No matter. The point was he was there.

"Yes, terribly sorry about that, Albus." Severus strode over to where Dumbledore stood by a long table in place of his desk. This table was bedecked with numerous wine and shot glasses and every brand of booze known in the wizarding world.

"Drink?" Dumbledore offered him a glass of some gold-colored liquid—whatever the hell it was. And Severus wasn't about to turn it down.

With a quick "thanks," Severus took the drink and hurried off to the far side of the room. He leaned against the wall and sipped the alcohol, which tasted surprisingly sweet. Many conversations were scattered around, and the room was full to bursting. After scanning the crowd, Severus was pleased to see Remus Lupin among them. It was even more pleasing for him when Remus joined him with a smile.

"Long time no see," Remus greeted cheerfully.

"It's a pleasure to see, and be seen," Severus said, moving closer to Remus. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm a friend of Dumbledore's, of course, or have you forgotten?"

Severus snorted, shaking his head. "No, my memory is intact. Perhaps a little too intact, if you get my drift." He winked, which drew drunken giggles from the other man. It was more than obvious that Remus had been here for awhile, and had probably already swallowed his weight in booze.

"If you're trying to get laid, then you're barkin' up the wrong tree, friend," Remus replied, his words slurring.

"As I recall, you were usually the one coming to me for sex, so I thought I'd turn the tables."

Remus swayed a little, but Severus wrapped an arm around his shoulders to stabilize him. "I only did that because you were such a bloody good shag." Their conversation continued on for the remainder of the party, though after awhile they were joined by the rest of the guests. Nobody seemed to notice the strange pink bubbles floating in their drinks.

Hours and bottles of fire whiskey later, Severus staggered into his private bathroom. The mirror suspended above the sink showed a face that, though he'd been seeing it for years now, appeared supernatural to him. A crooked nose; wrinkled, sagging skin, off-white in color; a shapeless mouth; piercing black eyes; neck-length black hair as greasy as it gets. But tonight he added another feature—a goofy grin from his drunken state. It only made things worse.

Severus attempted brushing his teeth, but found that he was far too drowsy. So, instead, he stumbled back into his bedroom and collapsed onto his pillow. He was sleep before his body even reached the bed.

Morning brought a throbbing headache. Groaning, Severus managed to climb out of bed and drag his feet into the bathroom. The first thing he noticed was that, for some odd reason, he seemed...shorter. Though he dismissed the idea as ludicrous—merely the delusion of a man with a hangover.

But he could no longer ignore it when he finally looked in the mirror. His toothbrush fell from his hand, clattering upon the rim of the sink. Before him was a face he hadn't seen in the longest time. A button (and often referred to as "cute") nose; firm, smooth skin, tanned from the summer sun; full, rosy lips used for snogging only the hottest guys; drooping lids over black eyes that you could loose yourself in; shiny, raven hair (looking newly-washed, mind you) that flowed past his shoulders. For once in many years, Severus was handsome. Maybe even sexy. And it scared him shitless.

"How the hell?" Then he remembered. The missing potion, and the pretty pink bubbles in his booze...

Severus' bewilderment turned to rage, and he screamed for all the school to hear: "WEEEAAASSSLLLEEEYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Author's Notes: Dun dun dun! Teehee. Couldn't resist. I hope y'all liked it and that I'll see you at the next chapter! And, I don't wish to seem like I'm begging but...please, please, PLEASE review this!!!! Ahem...anyway...


	2. Telling the Students

Sweet Sixteen  
Rating: R  
Pairing: Severus/Ron and various others  
Description: It's Dumbledore's birthday, and the celebration is going great…until they discover what the punch was spiked with. The Hogwart's staff has been exposed to a rare potion. There is no known cure, and it has some…interesting side effects.  
Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter up and running, guys. My computer has not been cooperating lately. Anyway, in the following chapter, there is Severus with a craving for smokes, horny students, and several references to McGonagall's breasts. Enjoy!

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Chapter 2--Telling the Students  
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"ALBUS!!!!!!!! Oh…my…God…" Severus whimpered. "Not you, too."

"I'm afraid so, Severus." Dumbledore leaned against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Only he was no longer the Dumbledore we know and love. His wrinkles and beard were gone, and blonde hair replaced his old gray locks. His half-moon spectacles lay forgotten on a pile of papers on the desk. "And could you refrain from entering like that? You'll break the door one of these days if you keep slamming it against the wall.

"Now let's press on to more important matters. As you can see, you and I are not the only ones that have been infected." Dumbledore gestured to all the others. Except for Professor Binns, of course, every person of the Hogwarts staff—including Remus—decked the corners of the room. The occupants of the room had lost their middle age and older features, and had gained smooth skin, soft, shiny hair, and much more. Quite a few of the male ones were goggling at the auburn-haired beauty by Dumbledore's side. It took Severus a moment or two to realize that she was McGonagall.

"We need to find out who did this," she said. Murmurs started between the others.

Severus cleared his throat, and everyone returned their attention to him. "I might have an idea…"

In a matter of minutes, the Weasley twins came tumbling out of the hearth. They brushed themselves off, scattering ashes over the rug. "Who was that blonde guy in our fire—oh. Right." George flashed the stern group surrounding him what he hoped was a genuine smile.

Meanwhile, Fred was eyeing McGonagall's enlarged breasts with keen interest. She sent a scowl his way, which forced him to turn his head.

"I believe you have some explaining to do, gentlemen." Dumbledore, arms still crossed, eyed them like an animal sizing up its prey.

"I don't quite understand what you mean," George said, attempting to sound innocent.

"Oh, I think you do," Severus intercepted the shouts of protest from the others. "What happened to that potion you found yesterday?"

"We…well, uh, we…" George glanced sideways at Fred, begging for help.

"You see," Fred began uneasily, "it was like this…"

The Great Hall was bustling with chattering students when the professors finally reached it. Hoping not to be seen (not just yet), they spilt up and snaked through the crowd with their heads bowed. Dumbledore adjourned to his place before the staff table, like he usually did when he needed to make an announcement. The student's talking soon died down as one by one they noticed him. A few of them continued to talk in low tones, many asking questions such as "Who's that guy?"

Dumbledore took a breath, then began, trying to sound like his normally cheerful self, "As most of you may see, something…strange has happened to us, your teachers. We have all been infected by a rare potion, discovered to be ()—or Sixteen—Formula, which has reduced us to our sixteen-year-old selves. The boys that poisoned us—who shall remain nameless," he cast a menacing look to the twins, standing with guilty expressions against the far wall, "—didn't think about the fact that there is no counter-potion. Needless to say, we will be this way for quite some time, either until it wears off—if it ever does—or until the Ministry somehow creates a cure. So, do try to overlook our appearances. It will make this whole ordeal more bearable for us." With a nod of his head to the students, Dumbledore sat, and the plates on each table magically filled with food.

Immediately, the Hall burst into fresh conversation.

Laughing, Harry turned to Ron. "Can you believe it? Oh, God, I can just imagine what this week's going to be like. I mean, do you see that babe with the huge boobs up there?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, don't you know where the teachers usually sit? It's obvious that that is Professor McGonagall."

"Oh."

Ron chuckled, searched the table, and detected a vacant space. It was Professor Snape's seat.

"Well…it's really not…_that_ bad…I suppose." Severus scanned his eyes over the image in his mirror. Not that you could see much of him. His body was almost completely hidden by his over-sized robes. "Ugh! It's a disaster!" With a cry of defeat, he turned and fell face-down on his mattress.

"I can't walk around like this," he complained into the quilt. Then, suddenly, a light bulb clicked on inside his head. Was it possible that he still had his trunk from his school days?

Severus jumped up and bounded towards the closet. He tore through piles of old books and parchment, discarded long forgotten quills and bottles of ink, until he found a large, oak trunk tucked away behind a stack of tattered pillows. The padlock was still open (good thing, too, because he couldn't remember the spell to unlock it). The lid and sides were dinged and scratched up from years of use. To top it all off, a thick layer of dust shrouded the trunk like a blanket. He unhooked the lock and tossed it over his shoulder. When he lifted the top, he wasn't surprised by the musty smell that hit him—after all, it had been almost twenty or thirty years since he'd opened it. As he had suspected, all of his clothes and robes from his teen years were still there.

Holding up a gray shirt, he commented, "Wow, that Mothballs Charm does its job well." After a few minutes of searching through the collection of items in the trunk, he decided on an emerald, button-up shirt and black jeans.

"I can't believe I actually kept all of this stuff," he remarked (now changed into his old clothes), making his way over to the mirror. It took one glance to make him shout: "Thank God I kept all of this stuff!" Now he had a few hours before his first and only class of the day—double potions with Slytherin and Gryfindor.

Most of the Gryfindor sixth-year boys entered double potions that afternoon with the half-lidded expression that—among other things—could be described as lustful. They had just come from transfiguration class. Though none of them had really been listening to the lesson. They were much more interested in gazing dreamily at McGonagall's chest. Quite a few of them had received punishments once she caught them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped into seats in the front row, under Harry's orders. He said he wanted to have a clear view of Snape. Obviously, the rest of the class felt the same. No one fancied sitting anywhere near the back. Everyone was expecting Snape to appear grotesque, as usual. But not a single one of them had predicted what walked through the door moments later.

Gasps echoed off the dungeon walls, and each head was turned in Severus' direction with a look of utmost awe. A simple flip of his long hair sent the ladies into a giggling frenzy and melted the queer boys into puddles of blubbering mush (not excluding Ron). His black eyes were set in a non-intentionally intense stare that had the students hypnotized. If nothing else, they saw him as a stud (which he was in his sixth year, but that's another story).

Severus reached his desk after what seemed like forever and began class in his regular monotonous voice, "Despite the noticeable changes, we'll conduct this class in the usual manner. You all studied the effects of the Sleeping Drought yesterday, and today you will concoct it with your partners. Start a flame under your cauldrons and begin." He plopped into his chair with a feeling of relief.

While Ron lit the fire, Harry whispered to him, "How is this possible? I saw Snape in his fifth year when I went inside the pensive, and he looked like a…grease-covered, spotty…_toad_."

"I heard that, Mister Potter." Harry and Ron's heads jerked up and blinked at Severus, who had had his eyes trained on them nearly the whole time. "What Lupin and the rest of your father's friends forgot to inform you is that I started using different hair- and skin-care products during the summer between our fifth and sixth years. That is why I look so abnormal to you now."

"Oh." His cheeks reddening slightly, Harry returned his attention to his cauldron.

Satisfied with the way the students were reacting, Severus picked up his quill and started grading the last half of their essays. Little did he know that the side effects to the potion would take affect so soon. About half an hour later, he suddenly got a craving for cigarettes. He was surprised, at first, because he hadn't had a cigarette since he had left Voldemort and the Death Eaters. But it took another minute or so for his surprise to form into irritation. He attempted every trick from his school days—chewing the end of his quill, tapping a tone to a song on his leg, blowing air through his lips to imitate smoking—but nothing worked. Finally, he just couldn't take it anymore.

Conquered at last, Severus calmly set down his quill and turned to the class. "Do any of you mind if I smoke in here?" Everyone shook their heads. With a muttered "thank you" Severus dove onto his knees and began rummaging frantically through his desk. He found his old pack of cigarettes (God knows why he kept them) at the bottom of the last drawer along with a matchbox. He slipped one in his mouth and lit it, then climbed back into his chair and conjured himself an ashtray, which he used to dispose of the spent match. He took a long, deep drag and blew smoke towards his feet. Even though he felt much better now, he knew that this week—or month…or year…or lifetime—wasn't going to get any easier.  
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Author's Notes: Another chapter done. There's more to come, so stick around. And a special thanks goes out to those of you that reviewed my first chapter. I love you all!


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